


Tell Me Again

by uselesscomedian



Category: The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Children, Dreams and Nightmares, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Multi, OOC Aquilles, OOC Patroclus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Reincarnation, Slice of Life, Tags May Change, The Song of Achilles References, They're kids!, Underage Drinking, although i will try to keep them in character, this is fanfic the whole thing is a reference, y'know cuz they both died
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27244960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uselesscomedian/pseuds/uselesscomedian
Summary: Achilles watched, amused, and swallowed the want that crept up his belly when Patroclus downed the whole beer in one go, destroying his rival, and making the party explode with cheers.It was unfortunate, really, that that was the moment he remembered.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 68





	1. Patroclus first

Patroclus closed his eyes and chewed the fig, the juice leaking between the right corner of his lips, reddish as blood. It was his favorite fruit. It reminded him of Achilles' lips. I'd call him a lover, but that wasn't the word. Philtatos.

There was no shortage of figs for them, on Elysium.

The Greek champion turned towards him, when he heard him let out a sigh. He was paralyzed for a moment. Patroclus's face was not pale, and his eyes were closed, his expression relaxed, his jaw moving, chewing. At the corner of his lips, Achilles could only see blood.

Not again, not again.

Patroclus's eyes widened when he felt Achilles' hands on his cheeks, wiping the scarlet ribbon from his face. He understood without the need for words, and smiled, placing a warm hand on Achilles's.

“I'm here.”, he whispered, with the calm that he knew the champion needed in his voice, with his breath close to him, directing his hand towards the area of his neck where he could feel his pulse

It was an artificial pulse, as he had noticed throughout the Fields. Everything was too perfect. The peleida had not perceived it, and if he had, he had not shared it with his Philtatos. Patroclus hadn't done it either, careful not to break that perfect world, just for them.

“I know, love.”, Achilles murmured back, dropping his head on Patroclus, face to face, with his eyes closed , “You will never leave.”

“Never.”, repeated Patroclus

Never.

Until…

* * *

Adria was a simple woman. Her eyes shone with a veiled intelligence, as if she didn't want to make it known. It was easier if people thought she was stupid as rocks, she'd understood over the years. She had barely begun her life when she found herself pregnant, in her late thirties, and unable to spoil the child.

Patroclus was born in April, crying and screaming and waving his little arms, as if something had been taken from him. Adria took him in her arms and calmed him with ragged sighs, laying her head against his chest, making him listen to her heartbeat. They said that this was what calmed newborns, the "boom-boom" of their mothers' entrails; but Patroclus kept crying, disconsolate, until he had a bottle in his mouth, and fell asleep, his face flushed, and his hands clinging to his mother's clothes, as if he wanted to shake her to get something out of her.

The first years of Patroclus were difficult. Adria had to take maternity leave, she was a single mother.

He was smart. Before the first year he was walking, albeit clumsily, and shortly after he spoke, stumbling.

He said "mom", "no", "yes", "water" ... "’Chilles", he whined when he forgot how to put one foot in front of the other, he whined when he did not know what to say, how to answer.

Adria didn't know where he got that from, but she supposed it was normal for children, natural for babies, to make up words for those things they didn't know how to name yet. If only she knew what he meant when he said it ...

Patroclus had nightmares. Night terrors, it was how the doctor had diagnosed it, even though the boy was just over a year and a half, and his huge brown eyes had not witnessed anything traumatic.

He would wake up with a shriek that ripped through the night, and Adria's apartment, from end to end. He would cry and kick, as if he was fighting something, and then he would hold on to his favorite stuffed animal, a rag horse, and repeat the same word over and over again.

_‘Chilles, ‘Chilles, ‘Chilles._

Adria would pick him up then, when he had stopped struggling with his mind, and hugged him and protected him from the horrors of the night, until he went back to sleep.

Over time, they became more spaced. The nightmares were far apart, one every month.

The boy drew, too. It almost looked like something out of a horror movie: the scribbles were of a woman, tall, stretched, with gray skin and black hair, red lips. But that was only one of the characters that plagued the mind of young Patroclus. He drew ships in the oceans, girls dancing ...

A man, of whom only the golden color of her hair, the green of her eyes was distinguishable.

His brown eyes looked tired when he began to forget it. The woman, the dancers, the boats, the man.

Patroclus began early childhood education when he was three years old, and the nightmares almost vanished. He drew horses, they were his favorite animal, and he drew his mother, Adria.

She took him to the park, but the boy was reluctant to make friends. He preferred to be taken to the pond, where he threw flat stones from the shore, and they bounced on the surface, like someone jumping on a bed.

And Patroclus laughed, and smiled, overwhelmed by a joy that should not fit in his small chest; He would turn to his mother, "See?" He would say, "Have you seen it?"

Adria adored Patroclus. She was in love with his eyes, brown as chocolate, and with the softness of his brown hair, with his smile, and with all his moles.

That was why it was hard for her, when they separated at the entrance of the school. She would place the small backpack on her child's shoulders, and watch him go, putting one foot in front of the other, meeting with his classmates and playing until his teacher arrived.

Childhood was easy for Patroclus. He was smart, he had been from the start, and he had a heart of gold.

The summer of Patroclus' sixth year, Adria decided that she wanted more than an apartment for his son. A little house, perhaps, with a garden, where he could bring his friends. This is how they moved from the center of the city to a town on the outskirts. The change was not much: less noise, perhaps, fewer people. None of this bothered Patroclus. There was only a small highschool, where the woman managed to start teaching, in Classical Culture, and in Latin and Greek, and the child began Primary like any other child.

Adria took him the first day of class, and put his backpack on his shoulders, and ruffled his hair, making Patroclus complain. Nervous, he had spent the whole morning clumsily redoing his hair, to make a good impression, in front of the mirror.. He was dressed in what Patroclus would have called his _magnum opus_ of clothing sets, if he'd had any idea what that expression meant: an orange sweater and little blue jeans, all topped off with his red and white trainers.

“How are we, General?”, asked the woman, straightening up, putting her stiff hand to her forehead, in an imitation of a military salute.

Patroclus laughed, and stood completely straight.

“Ready for battle.”, he answered, with a dazzling smile

One of the two top incisors was missing. It was lovely.

“Very good. You'll tell me everything when you come back, right?”, Patroclus nodded energetically in response, and it was all it took for Adria to smile widely, from ear to ear, “Then run, little soldier.”

And Patroclus ran toward the crowd of children milling around the school entrance, a greeting already prepared on his lips.

* * *

Patroclus was not as prepared as he had told his mother he was, but that was nothing new. He did his best to be brave, but the idea of meeting so many new people scared him.

What if no one liked him? What if they laughed at him?

The children knew each other, having spent all their prior years together. They might even have been friends from kindergarten. It was difficult to fit in with all of them. Patroclus was the piece with too many holes in the puzzle that would be the class, and nobody had anything to hook him to the group.

He missed his home. His old school. There, he was not a stranger. He was a friend, a best friend, even.

They had a teacher, who called out loud:

“First of Primary!”

And a whole line of children was moving in front of him, Patroclus trying not to trip over his feet to follow them.

From the other side of the street, where his mother had disappeared, he saw a boy, who had to be his age. He had golden hair, like the sun, and green eyes, like all plants. The boy let go of his mother's hand, saying hastily goodbye, and crossed the sidewalk.

Patroclus had never seen any child run so fast.

In the blink of an eye, he was right behind him, with no sign of post-race fatigue.

“You are new.”, he said, and his voice was confident, and melodious, as if singing, “Who are you?”

Patroclus felt difficulty, following the line, but looking back, and yet he was not able to stop looking at the boy.

“Patroclus.”, he answered, with a slight tremor in his voice , “My name is Patroclus.”

The boy smiled, and his face was dimpled, splattered with freckles, like stars in the sky.

“I am Achilles.”

* * *

To say that she hadn't been worrying about her son all day would be a lie. Adria hadn't been able to stop thinking about Patroclus for a moment, all alone, in a new class.

He must have been terrified, far more terrified than he had been letting on. It was something Patroclus did often, and Adria didn't know where the habit had come from.

When she finished her classes, she went home. There were still boxes to undo. The only room that seemed to have taken shape was Patroclus's room. The bed was in the far corner from the door, with the left side and headboard against the wall.

The sheets were blue, with little paper boats cruising the ocean.

Next to the bed, a small table, with a lamp that illuminated the ceiling of the room with stars; her son seemed to have a special predilection for constellations, and who was she to deny him that happiness.

There was a closet, full of clothes and toys; and a desk, where Patroclus still sat drawing, too big for him. His legs dangled.

Adria cooked the food. Soup and sausage, quick, but good. She took the bowl of fruit out of the fridge so it wouldn't be too cold for lunch.

She sat on the sofa, and waited.

The house was too big, lonely. Even with Patroclus there, sometimes the silence ate her up. She was far from home, and although she had no regrets, she missed the nearby walls in the city. Patroclus running in the corridors, laughing, shouting,

‘Chilles, ‘Chilles, ‘Chilles.

She stretched out on the couch, and closed her eyes for a moment. She couldn't fall asleep, she had to go get her son in an hour.

She couldn't fall asleep ...

Could not…

Adria woke up on the couch two hours later, rubbing her brown eyes with her right hand, sitting up.

She looked at her watch, and felt her stomach drop from her gut, down to her feet, and then sink under the ground.

She was late for Patroclus.

* * *

Achilles shook his hand, frowning, and his father, Cole, knelt beside him again, his expression worried.

“You sure she didn't say she would be back late?”, asked the man, and Patroclus shook his head, his eyes filling.

As often happened when he cried, a familiar stutter formed on his lips, and he murmured it, trying to swallow the first few tears.

“‘Chilles…”

Achilles turned to him, and smiled bright as the sun. He laced their fingers together and brushed a lock of brown from his face.

“It’s okay, I'm here.”

They had become friends, quickly. Achilles was outgoing, and popular with his peers, confident in his answers, in his steps. Patroclus had fitted in with him the very moment they had exchanged names.

Like a puzzle, he had thought before.

Like a power outlet, he had heard his mother say, once.

At the end of the day, each parent had come for their child after school - all except his mother. Achilles had stayed with him, which both relieved and burdened him; he didn't want to be a bother to his new friend.

Lunchtime was approaching, when Adria's car arrived, like a ship runs aground on the beach, and his mother got out, disheveled and worried.

The three; Patroclus, Achilles, and the father of Achilles; they turned to the woman, and Patroclus couldn't help it:

“Mom!”, he shouted, throwing himself at her, letting go of his friend's hand, who saw him leave without moving from his place

The woman and he embraced, as if they had not seen each other for centuries, and Patroclus began to really cry.

“I'm sorry, very much, darling, I'm sorry …”, Adria looked up and saw the man and the boy, and made an apologetic face, taking her son in her arms as she got up again , “Have you stayed with him?”

Cole, Achilles's father, nodded, and Adria expected reproach, but found only kind understanding.

“Thank you very much--”, Patroclus was clinging to her, like a koala, and would not let her go, she could not reach out to give the man a handshake, “Forgive all the inconvenience …”

“No, do not worry. Achilles wouldn't have let me go anyway, would he?”, he laughed affably, and gestured to so-called Achilles to come forward, let himself be seen

The boy looked at her, an expression that almost pierced her. His green eyes seemed to glow in the sun, and his hair was bathed in gold. However, Adria was the mother of Patroclus, and there was no child more wonderful than Patroclus.

“The boys have become friends today… Patroclus is a very polite boy, very smart for his age, too. It has not been so much trouble.”, Cole assured, as if he was trying to erase the penetrating gaze of his son , “I'm Cole, by the way.”

He did not take out his hand. It seemed that he understood.

Adria stared at Achilles for a second longer.

She did not know exactly what it was that led her to propose it. Maybe it was the boy's gaze, maybe Cole's inordinate kindness.

“Would you like to come over to our house to eat? I've made plenty of food …”

Cole stood still for a moment, and Adria felt stupid for suggesting it. She had already caused enough commotion for today--

And suddenly Achilles was screaming.

“Yes, yes, yes!”, the boy looked up at his father, with huge eyes, and even Adria knew that the game was lost the moment Cole dared to look down

Patroclus separated from her for a moment, and smiled.

“Yes …”, he said, following the tone of his new friend

Cole shook his head, with a smile.

“I guess it's decided.”

* * *

Patroclus led Achilles to his room. He didn't know why he was so nervous; it was just a room, and yet he couldn't stop wondering whether it would look cool to Achilles.

The blond boy walked behind him, with a small smile on his face, and he didn't seem to notice anything else in the house, which was fine, because there wasn't much to see either ... No, he was constantly looking at Patroclus, who turned from time to time, as if he were checking that he was still behind him, and it was at that moment that Achilles smiled the widest, his eyes lighting up.

They reached the room after climbing the stairs, and Patroclus slowly opened the door to the room.

His heart was in his throat, and he turned to watch Achilles' reaction.

The boy looked overwhelmed.

Upon arriving at the house, Patroclus had run to his room, pulled down the blinds, and lit his constellation lamp. He was excited to show it to someone other than his mother, but as they climbed up the stairs, he had begun to regret the idea. Yet now, with Achilles unable to tear his eyes away from the stars projected on the ceiling of the room, he felt a warm satisfaction in his chest.

“Wow.”, the blond boy ended up saying, eloquently

And Patroclus nodded. No other reaction would have seemed better.

They spent the day in the room, drawing, telling stories, playing knights.

This last game had been short lived, as neither was especially fond of hitting the other with a plastic sword. Patroclus seemed to have a terrible dislike, and Achilles had no problem respecting it: he felt more at ease when Patroclus was at ease.

Downstairs in the living room, Cole and Adria were chatting. It had turned out that they were almost neighbours, Achilles’ family living on the same street, just a few houses down.

“They seem to have known each other forever.”, the mother laughed, turning around her coffee, “I'm very glad that he was able to make friends the first day ... And with a child as good as Achilles.”, she smiled, looked at Cole, who was looking at the ceiling, listening to the children spinning on the floor, one on top of the other, and laughing

“Yes. The truth is that Achilles is not usually so …”, ‘protective’ could be the word; ‘patient’ too, perhaps ‘careful’, “... open. He and Patroclus really fit together.”

Achilles used to be much sharper than he was being, than he had been from the moment he had seen him with Patroclus. As if the other boy had tamed him, or rather, as if he had calmed the fury that Achilles always seemed to carry inside.

They were silent for a moment, until Cole spoke again.

“And have you just moved to town?”, he asked, with a tone of curiosity, looking at some of the boxes that were still in the kitchen

“Yes… We needed a change of scenery, and I wanted more space for Patroclus. He won’t always be six.”, she smiled, and it was true

She could still remember the little boy who had come into the world in spring, crying as if that which was most precious to him had been taken away.

At the end of the day, Achilles and Patroclus hugged each other tightly, and made promises to meet at the school entrance the next day.

Patroclus ate supper, got into bed, and fell asleep looking at the stars.

When he dreamed, he did not have nightmares about blood, about pain, about the tall woman with black hair and red lips, no.

He dreamed of a cave made of pink minerals, and a painted ceiling, like his own. One finger pointing to the constellations and--

_Orion._

_The Pleiades._

_She says she cannot see us here._


	2. Then, Achilles

When Patroclus vanished from his arms, in Elysium, Achilles felt his throat close.

There had to be a mistake, they couldn't be taking Patroclus from him.

It was when he stood up, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his temples, that he realized that it was Elysium itselt that was disintegrating, as if it were made of ashes.

Achilles screamed. He shouted the name of Patroclus, while his hands melted in the wind.

The world of the Gods was fading, he could see it now that the walls were falling. Hades and Persephone died, holding each other and falling apart, just as Patroclus had. Souls escaped, Achilles saw them rise. Where were they going?

Would Patroclus be there?

He couldn't last forever without him. He hadn't been able to endure a week.

And that was when he finished fading, like dust.

* * *

Maya gave birth in August, sweating in a hospital in a small town on the outskirts of a big city.

Achilles was born crying, frowning, and fighting. He didn't stop crying. His eyes were trying to open, but they couldn't, and his hands were trying to grasp something, but they only found the fabric of his mother's clothes, and that didn't seem to be what he wanted.

The boy was smart, attentive, fast. Above all, fast. Walking was never a challenge, nor was running.

He progressed through his impatient childhood. As if he already knew what he wanted from the world, as if he had already lived before. Soon he was speaking, too fast for what he could say, too many things.

"Mom", and "Dad", and "I want", and "yes", and "no".

The truth was that Achilles did not remember. Not much more than Patroclus remembered, at least.

His nights were plagued with nightmares. Maya and Cole were quick to act. Doctors and psychologists stood in front of the boy and asked him millions of questions, but Achilles was fine. No, he had not suffered a traffic accident, his parents treated him well, no teacher had asked him for favors of any kind.

And in his dreams, his hands were stained with blood, red and thick, and he watched him go. He didn't know who he was. He couldn't even see him, or understand it at all. But he would turn around, and leave, leaving behind his trail of blood.

Achilles did not draw. It didn't take long for his parents to sign him up for sports.

They believed that this would calm the flame that the child carried within.

He was tireless, immovable. He hardly ever threw a tantrum, because he hardly ever needed one. His green eyes were capable of burning you alive, and he was only five years old.

They started with karate, then soccer, basketball, finally athletics.

That was what seemed to work. What managed to loosen his young muscles, what made his stiff bones turn to butter, what allowed him to be a boy.

He was also popular. Leader in all the games that were played in the playground, the first of his class in Infantile, never painting out of the coloring line. 

And then Primary started.

And then he met Patroclus.

They were late for class that day because Maya thought she had told Cole to make lunch for the boy, but she had forgotten to send the message, and Achilles would have to eat something.

And when they finally got out of the car, finally prepared to cross the street, Achilles saw him. Small, as a child his age should be, and slim, in his orange sweater, his jeans.

Achilles did not, couldn't think. Curiosity made the gears in his brain spin. Familiarity was what pulled the strings of his heart.

It was that which made him say goodbye to his mother abruptly, and run away.

He arrived just in time to get behind the boy, who seemed just as nervous, if not more, up close than far. His eyes were dark, like the night, like the hot chocolate they drank at home at Christmas; and nervously inspected it. Nothing was happening: Achilles did not understand why people's gaze stayed on him for so long, but he knew that it happened, frequently.

“You’re new.”, Achilles said, looking at him, trying to match the expression with which he was looking, “Who are you?”

The boy stumbled on his own feet, and Achilles could see that he would lose his way, if he didn’t stop looking back at him.

“Patroclus.”, the other boy answered, trembling, like a leaf falling from the tree, the last one of them, “My name is Patroclus.”

Achilles smiled, but Patroclus did not smile with him. He kept examining him more. Always a few extra seconds before turning around, before continuing.

“I am Achilles.”, he said, and that was enough to form a friendship

They had spent the day together, and Achilles had made sure to teach Patroclus all the important places: the gym, the media room, the lab, for the older kids ...

He had held the boy by the hand the whole time. Something peculiar had happened in Achilles, at the very moment in which he had taken Patroclus's hand in his.

If Achilles was fire, Patroclus was water. He felt nothing but calm, a calm that he had never felt before, not even when sleeping.

It stifled a cry that he didn't know was there.

Patroclus was carried away by him, trusting fully in his new friend, and Achilles wanted to show him everything, and be his friend, and be his best friend.

“Are you from the town?”, asked the blond boy, around the sandwich in his mouth

Patroclus hadn't started eating his yet, and he was looking at his feet. Achilles thought orange favored him, it matched his eyes.

“No. My mom and I recently moved.”, he replied, playing with his lunch wrapped in silver foil

Achilles nodded, as if Patroclus had just said something very wise, and Patroclus knew what the next question was. ‘Where did you live before?’, a curious question. Or, even worse, ‘What about your dad?’, and Achilles would stop looking at him as soon as he answered.

However, Achilles didn't have any kind of curiosity regarding Patroclus life earlier.

He was going to ask something else, about why he wasn't eating his sandwich, but a boy came running up, and slapped him on the back.

“Tag, you’re it!”, he screamed, so sharp that Patroclus had to close his eyes for a moment and the bread from his lunch squeezed between his fingers, beneath the foil

However, Achilles smiled, got up from the ground, and began to chase the other.

Patroclus had seen him run before, crossing the street and the playground like someone who goes from the door of his room to bed, jumping like the gazelles in the documentaries that his mother and he saw after dinner.

Now it was the same.

Achilles got up as if it were effortless, and ran to his next victim. His feet were like the water of the rivers on its channel, sliding on the granite floor of the ground without any resistance. The wind seemed to part to make way for him.

Achilles' turn to chase ended quickly. In less than a minute, the boy had his hand on another girl, who screamed, and ran towards her peers.

The one who had brought Achilles into the game, now in front of Patroclus, held out his hand to him, still panting from running.

“Do you want to play?”

Patroclus had never been very fast. They would laugh at him.

Achilles chuckled, and looked up at him from where he was, narrowly avoiding another kid who was chasing him.

And Patroclus was six years old (and many, many more), and he took the boy's hand and got up, leaving the sandwich behind and starting to run.

* * *

Achilles knew what comment was coming now.

‘You are very fast.’, Patroclus would say, and he would feel the same as he felt with the rest of his peers. A kind of disdain, and indifference. As if they couldn't quite get his attention.

Patroclus, however, said nothing of the sort. He looked at him a moment longer, and instinctively reached out from the front, to make sure he didn't lose it along the way. And Achilles took it.

They went up to the class and sat in their places again, side by side. Achilles had noticed that Patroclus was a very quiet boy, and this was only accentuated more in class.

He would sit in his chair, and as if a spell were falling on him, he would be completely silent, and his eyes, huge like those of an owl, focused only on the teacher, and on the blackboard.

The class hours passed quickly, looking at Patroclus.

At the end of the day, the teachers took the children out to the entrance of the school, and there they waited for the parents to come to pick them up. His father was there, like clockwork, and with a smile. He shook his hand in a kind of greeting before approaching. Usually, Achilles would run towards him. Not this time.

Achilles was sitting on the ground next to Patroclus, who kept looking between the faces of the parents, and the adults, searching urgently for his mother. Achilles was looking at him with a frown, as if it bothered him that he was not paying him attention, and at the same time he was worried about him.

“Hello, kids?”, he didn't want it to be a question, but that's how it came out, anyway

Achilles waved a hand, hardly looking at him. To Cole's poor fatherly heart, it was a terrible blow.

The boy sitting next to him, however, did greet him.

“H- Hi.”, He stuttered, and Achilles' brow furrowed further, if it was possible, “My mom is not here yet…”, he explained, with a trembling voice

It didn't take long for Achilles to grasp his hand. He looked at his father, his green eyes glowing with a request he wouldn't even have to make, because Cole had already thought about it before Achilles even looked at him.

“We can stay with you.”, he offered, “I'm Achilles' father, Cole.”

“P- Patroclus.”, the boy said, “Nice to meet you.”, and Cole couldn't help but think ‘Huh’, and outlined a half smile

“Are you new to school? Did you have fun today?”

And Patroclus nodded, beginning to speak of his day with his new friend.

For Achilles, it only mattered that he was smiling again.

* * *

Patroclus's mother was affectionate, but Achilles didn't know if he could forgive her for making the boy cry.

He forgot about it, anyway, when Patroclus took him to his room. The ceiling was full of stars, and Achilles couldn't breathe. That had never occurred to him: putting stars on the ceiling of his room.

“Wow.”

Achilles picked up one of the plastic swords from his friend's closet, and shook it in the air.

Patroclus looked at him from the ground, where he was coloring a picture, and smiled.

“You look like a prince.”

“Do you think so?”, the blond boy puffed out his chest, stood on his tiptoes, “Maybe I' am a prince.

His friend laughed, and shook his head.

“I want to be a prince too!”, he exclaimed, getting up from the ground, taking another plastic sword, “On guard!”

Achilles laughed, and brought his sword down on Patroclus', the plastic making a dull sound. Soon. both boys were swinging their swords in the air, making them clash from time to time. In one of his movements, Achilles stabbed at Patroclus, the plastic point sinking into the softness of his stomach, and the boy laughed triumphantly.

“You’re--!”

_ Dead. He was dead. Dead, dead, deaddeadead--  _

Patroclus took a step back, as if he had just been stabbed for real, and if he was faking the pain in his gaze, he was doing it very well. So good that the air caught in his throat as his friend's knees buckled, and he fell to the floor on the carpet.

_ No. No, please. Please… _

The hilt of the sword slipped between his fingers, and Achilles only registered that it fell when it made the same thudding sound that plastic made when it hit the ground.

Patroclus stared at the ceiling a moment longer, before standing up.

“Can we play something else?”

_ Yes. _ And there was a joke here, about how Patroclus wanted to change the game because he lost. Achilles didn't dare say it.

“Okay.”, he answered, hiding his nausea with a smile.

* * *

When they got home, his mother was asleep on the couch, with a book in her hands. It was later than Achilles used to go to bed, so he yawned, kissed his mother on the cheek, and went to bed, completely exhausted.

He woke up at eight, and jumped out of bed, thinking that today he would see Patroclus again.

He went downstairs to the kitchen, and his mother was already putting breakfast on the table for him.

“Good morning, darling.”, Maya greeted, with a smile

Achilles drank his hot milk in practically one gulp.

“Good morning, mom.”, he answered, and began to swallow the cookies.

“Wait, wait …”, Maya put her hands on her son’s, laughing, “What are you doing? You friend won’t be there sooner just because you show up sooner.”

The boy's eyes widened, some cookie crumbs falling from his face. His mother had caught him. The woman laughed, and shook her head, before releasing his hands.

“But we can try not to be late.”, she suggested, and Achilles shook his head vehemently.

At twenty past eight they were leaving home, and at twenty minutes to nine they were at the school gates. His mother kissed him on the forehead, as she usually did, and said goodbye to him, starting to return home. Classes would begin at nine, and Patroclus would have arrived.

Achilles, however, was not very familiar with the passage of time, and for him, the ten minutes of waiting until his friend arrived, were eternal. The rest of the kids were screaming and playing, and normally he would have joined them, but he didn't have time for that now. He only had time to wait for Patroclus.

At ten minutes to nine, a car parked in front of the school, and Patroclus's mother, Adria, got out of it. She greeted Achilles from the driveway, and walked to the other side of the car to open one of the rear doors--

“Achilles!”

Patroclus came running up to him and hugged him tightly. Achilles hugged back, as if the short time they had spent apart had been eternal.

Such was the time for children, Adria thought, shaking his head, and saying goodbye to his son quickly. She was late for her classes.


	3. A Hero Who Is Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Among them, one caught Achilles's attention, and he took it in his hands, silently while Patroclus kept running, as if he were doing it secretly.  
> An Ancient Greek soldier costume.  
> It came with a golden plastic chest armor, a red cape and a white robe. From the plastic bag where everything was tucked, hung a helmet, with a crest of false red hair.  
> He didn't really know why, but he couldn't stop himself. He untied the helmet and put it on his head.  
> \--  
> or, two kids go shopping for costumes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy halloween!!! just wanted to thank all of you for leaving kudos and comments,,, it really made me want to write more! i hope you enjoy the chapter!!

If Achilles and Patroclus had become friends on the first day of school, now, two years later, they were inseparable.

First and second year of Primary had passed quickly, so much that Patroclus had hardly noticed.

It was as if he had closed his eyes for a moment, and suddenly he had opened them and now he was eight years old. He hadn't grown much, though. His mother had told him that it was because he was going to be very tall, so much so that his body had to prepare well (and eat all of his veggies), and that was why it was taking a little longer.

But Achilles was already tall. Enough to reach the chocolate bars that his father made sure to place on a shelf a little further out of his reach, he had told Patroclus, one afternoon they spent at his home, between whispers and laughter.

Maya had caught them, onte day, Patroclus perched on Achilles' shoulders, trying to reach the shelf where Cole had placed the chocolate this time, especially tall. Patroclus was whining, and asking Achilles not to drop him, while Achilles assured him that he was not going to do it, and then Maya had entered the kitchen, and Achilles had freaked out, flinching, and causing Patroclus to lose balance on his shoulders--

In short, Patroclus was not very tall, even by the expectations of an eight-year-old, and he couldn't say he liked it, but he didn't mind either.

They were eight years old, and Halloween was approaching, which, at their school, could only mean one thing: they would do a theater performance in the shool’s auditorium, all dressed up; they would do games, such as mask-making workshops, and at the end of the day, their teachers would hand out candy after school.

All considered, Halloween was not Patroclus' favorite holiday, but it was a lot of fun.

There was a week to go until the long-awaited day, and that was when the preparations for the play began.

Their teacher took out a notebook, and with her pen, began to write the names of each of them. Achilles leaned from his chair towards Patroclus, something he didn't need to do, because they were less than a meter away, and Patroclus could hear him perfectly, but that he did anyway, to give his whispers dramatic effect.

Patroclus wouldn't want his friend to be any other way.

“What play do you think we will have to do this year?”, he murmured, looking at him with his green eyes

“Something scary.”, Patroclus replied, without leaning, but looking back at him

Achilles rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“Sure it's going to be scary, Pat, it's Halloween.”

“Achilles!”, the teacher called, from the front of the class, and Achilles straightened up as if he were a doll

Patroclus smiled widely, and hid a laugh between the sleeves of his green sweater. The blond boy smiled. He liked to make Patroclus laugh.

The teacher cleared her throat for a moment, lifting her glasses over the bridge of her nose.

“Guys, guys!”, she called the rest of the class to be silent; and when they were, she began to speak again, “As you know, Halloween is coming. This means that we must prepare a play.”, she paused, to give suspense

Patroclus liked Miss Virginia. She was a fun woman, who loved to do this kind of thing: plays, games, music festivals. She had also stayed with him for as long as he needed when he fell in PE and injured his elbow.

“And this year, we will do ‘The Story of a Boy Who Went Forth to Learn Fear’!”, the woman smiled widely

The children clapped and screamed, as they used to do when something excited them, but most of them had no idea what the story was about.

Virginia quickly realized that almost no one knew the story, as soon as she began to write down the names of the characters to be distributed on the blackboard, and gave a brief explanation.

Patroclus thought that it would be about a brave hero, a champion, who had defeated monsters and ghosts, and who had emerged victorious from any fight.

He was wrong.

It turned out that the protagonist of the story was nothing more than a village boy, who was almost comically dumb, and therefore did not know fear. The story was about the journey of that curious boy, in search of something that would make him shudder with fear.

Once everyone knew what the story was about, they could decide who would be who.

They spent the whole class deciding, and voting. Most of the boys wanted to be the protagonist, although some girls had also volunteered. It was a futile fight: once Achilles had volunteered, the role was his.

Patroclus did not want to be the protagonist. Among other things because he considered that being fearful was one of the key characteristics of his personality. Also because he knew that Achilles would be the protagonist from the moment his eyes had lit up when he heard the story.

No, Patroclus was content to be "Ghost #3", or "Vampire #2".

When they left class, the day finished, each with their cut of dialogue, Achilles and Patroclus sat on a bench near the entrance of the school, comparing the amount of things they had to say.

“It's not fair, you barely have to study anything.”, Achilles complained, looking at his paper, full of things that he would have to memorize to recite in the play

Patroclus looked at his. It had three sparse lines, and one of them consisted solely of "Boo!"

“But you are the protagonist, Achilles”, the brunet smiled, his hand, always on top of the other's, giving a slight squeeze, “You will be the hero that saves the day.”

Achilles looked at Patroclus for a moment, and he could not decipher what had been going through his blond friend at that moment. There was… something, on his mind. A whisper, like one of those memories he had from when he was a baby, full of fog, and blank spaces.

_Name a hero who was happy._

_You are the reason._

And Achilles sighed dramatically, and collapsed on the bench, his limbs extended like an octopus, his eyes narrowed.

“I only volunteered because they wouldn't stop fighting.”

The moment had been broken, and Patroclus was smiling again.

“You are too good for your own good.”

“That's rich, coming from you.”, Achilles sank one of his fingers into his friend's side, making him squirm and laugh

Adria soon arrived with the car, to pick them up both. They had fallen into that kind of routine. Every day they were picked up by one of Achilles's parents, or Adria, and they spent the afternoon together. They did their homework together, they played together ... At the end of the day, each one would go home, and it would be repeated the next day.

Today it was time to go to Patroclus' house.

Both children got into the car, and Adria greeted them from the front seat with a smile.

“How was the day, guys?”

With his mother, and at home, when only he and Achilles were there, it was as if Patroclus's spell completely vanished. Suddenly, he couldn't stop talking, as if a plug had been removed. Achilles let him do it. He also liked it when Pat talked.

“Today we have been handed out the roles for the Halloween play.”, Patroclus explained, fastening his belt, “Achilles will be the protagonist! And I will be a ghost.”

Adria laughed, and started the car.

The children were talking about their roles in the back seats, reading their lines exaggeratedly, and soon they began to talk about costumes.

“If you don't have a lot of homework, we can stop by the costume shop.”, the woman suggested, “Besides ... We can have dinner at McDonald's.”

The children went crazy.

* * *

The town's costume and party decorations store wasn't very big, but it did have an entire aisle dedicated to costumes, extending half a further aisle by Halloween. Adria finished texting Maya and Cole, telling them she was taking the children shopping for costumes for the play, and looked up. Achilles and Patroclus had already run to the costumes, screaming and laughing.

The woman gave the man at the counter an apologetic look, but he only smiled widely.

“There are changing rooms, in case they want to put it on.”

“Thank you.”, Adria smiled

By the time she reached them, the children had already discovered that there were changing rooms, and had each taken three costumes. It was clear that they wanted to make this trip as long as possible, and Adria shook her head.

Children.

Achilles was the first to try on one of his disguises. He stepped into the fitting room, and was making noises the whole time until he finally jumped out from between the curtains, with a scream that made Patroclus wince, and take a couple of steps back. He was dressed as a werewolf, with a dog mask, full of hair, and torn clothes. The children laughed, and then it was Patroclus's turn.

Achilles sat on the bench next to Adria, his legs swinging. The woman smiled. Achilles had become a kind of second son to her. Sometimes he thought that Patroclus' adoration for his best friend had caught up with her. The boy and Pat were inseparable. She would not be surprised if Patroclus came home, one day, in the future, with Achilles by the hand and introduced him, no longer as his friend, but as his boyfriend.

The truth was that she would not care in the least. Achilles was a good boy.

She shook her head, however. It was too early to think about such things.

Patroclus emerged from the fitting room, dressed in a skeleton costume, and Achilles' eyes widened.

“Wow”, he smiled, “It suits you-- In a good way!”

“But it's not scary …”, said the boy, with a small, bashful smile

Achilles shrugged.

“It doesn't have to be scary. You just have to be comfortable.”

Patroclus smiled widely, then, and it was Achilles' turn again.

They spent the afternoon like this. Going in and out of the dressing room, and putting on a variety of different costumes, goofing around.

They finally focused on the costumes they needed for the play. Achilles had to go as a village boy, and soon they found a costume set, in which it said "squire", but that would do. Patroclus's costume was not difficult to find either, and if Adria was honest, she could have prepared the costume at home herself: it consisted only of a white sheet with holes where the eyes should fall, but if she was going to buy a costume for Achilles, it would be unfair not to do the same for your son… Also, it came with a ball tied to plastic ankle chains.

* * *

“Stay here while I pay, kids.”, said the woman, with both bags in her hands, and the children nodded, beginning to look at the rest of the costumes and toys and decorations

When Adria was gone, they both turned and ran to the shelves to continue looking at costumes.

Among them, one caught Achilles's attention, and he took it in his hands, silently while Patroclus kept running, as if he were doing it secretly.

An Ancient Greek soldier costume.

It came with a golden plastic chest armor, a red cape and a white robe. From the plastic bag where everything was tucked, hung a helmet, with a crest of false red hair.

He didn't really know why, but he couldn't stop himself. He untied the helmet and put it on his head.

He didn't understand why the air was suddenly heavy on his shoulders, why this was somehow important, but putting on the werewolf mask hadn't caused him any discomfort.

“Achilles!”, he heard his friend approach, and an irrational panic seized him, all his senses screaming at him to take off his helmet now, now, now, _nownownownow_ \-- “Achilles, loo--!”

The blond boy met Patroclus' brown eyes. The toys he was bringing fell from his hands, but Achilles did not hear it. He could only see the expression of utter horror on his friend’s face, the way his hands had started to shake.

“Pat--”, he started, but didn't know what to say

He did not understand what was happening.

Patroclus sighed, and Achilles wasn't close enough to him to know, but he was absolutely certain that it was a cold, ragged breath.

“It looks nice on you.”, the brown boy ended up saying, as if he were forcing the words from his mouth

“I don’t like it.”, Achilles answered quickly, finally taking off his helmet, “I don't like it at all.”, he repeated, as if he was apologizing

Patroclus quickly scooped up what he had dropped.

“Mom is almost done.”, he said, without giving any further comment, with a small voice, and then he smiled widely, as if everything that had just happened had been erased, “Let's have McDonald's for dinner!”

Achilles could only smile, leaving the disguise in place, as if burned by the touch of it, and followed his friend to the counter.

* * *

At night, Patroclus had trouble sleeping, as he used to sometimes. The nightmare was not out of the ordinary: he had had it before.

It always started the same way, a tall and stout man, putting on armor, a helmet, taking a sword and a spear, at dawn. Patroclus did not see it well, as if he was seeing it through water.

_As a fish sees the sun._

And the man left, and Patroclus followed, urgently, with a terrible pain in his chest.

He advanced through an army, leaving a red trail behind him, and Patroclus followed it, like a path, leading him to the man. He wanted to stop it. He didn't know anything else, just that he wanted to stop the man but couldn't.

And he heard him, distant. He heard him scream, a name, but he didn't hear it.

_No. Wait, stop._

And, between defeated gods, between screams and cheers and blood, a _lot of blood,_ he heard it.

_There are no bargains between lions and men. I will kill you and eat you raw._

He woke up with a scream, terrified, and looking in his bed for something, _someone_ , but he was alone, alone, and no one would help him and--

“Patroclus! Patroclus, love, look at me! I'm here!”

Gold blonde hair, _yes_ , and hands on his face, but-- Their eyes weren't green. They were brown.

“Mom.”, he managed to sob, shrinking into himself, “Mom, mom.”

Adria hugged her son, tightly. Her heart was pounding in her chest as if it were fighting her ribs to escape. Patroclus was drenched in cold sweat, and sobbing, his head buried in the crook of her necj, and the woman lit the constellation lamp, to illuminate the room.

“It’s alright, Pat. You're okay, at home, with me.”

Patroclus nodded weakly, and Adria knew he was falling asleep again, his hands still gripping her mother's pajama top.

The woman could not leave. She lay down on the bed with the boy, and covered them both with the blanket.

She fell asleep, with Patroclus in her arms, thinking that if she could get rid of her child’s nightmares, she would do so without a second thought, whatever the cost.

* * *

Rehearsals for the play were the favorite part of the day for almost all the kids. That included, of course, Achilles and Patroclus. The role of the latter was not very complicated. He leapt out of the shadows from time to time and screamed, along with his fellow ghosts.

_Boo!_

In many of the rehearsals, the ghosts and other monsters who did not have to rehearse much, were dedicated to painting the sets. Patroclus liked to paint the cardboard walls that they would put on stage to simulate the enchanted castle that Achilles would have to walk through. He imagined his pale freckled skin and golden hair contrasting against the gloomy gray of the set, against the red of the curtains.

For whatever reason, the idea of Achilles with a red background didn't appeal to him too much, but he didn't stop to think much about it either.

As he painted, Achilles was on stage, reciting the nonsense his character had to say every time someone tried to scare him, and under the spotlights, he was shining like the sun.

Neither spoke about what had happened in the costume shop, because neither of them fully understood it, and as the days passed, they forgot, as if it had never happened.

With the passing of the days, too, the day of the play arrived.

Fathers and mothers parked their cars at the entrance of the school and went into the auditorium, with their video cameras at the ready, and Patroclus was watching them, sitting on the ladder that led to the stage, when Achilles appeared from between the curtains and sat down by his side.

“Are you nervous?”, he asked, and Patroclus shook his head no.

Achilles frowned a moment, lifted the sheet under which his friend was. Patroclus turned his head so that his friend would not see him with tears in his eyes.

“Hey…”, the blond boy whispered, making him look at him again, “It’s okay, Pat. You will do great.”

Patroclus looked at him, almost accusingly.

“Aren't you nervous?”

Achilles considered it for a moment, and Patroclus waited impatiently. It was not an answer that needed reflection.

“No, not really.”

“How? Doesn't it scare you the least bit?”

Achilles laughed, crawling under the sheet with Patroclus. In the darkness of the auditorium, anyone who looked would see a ghost with four legs, but he didn't care about any of this at the moment.

“I suppose not. You'll be up there too. We will do the best we can.”

“And what scares you.”

Achilles widened his eyes, but said nothing for a minute.

“That you won’t be with me.” he replied, with such a ... great sincerity that Patroclus couldn't help feeling surprised , “That you won’t be my friend.”, he continued

Patroclus was silent for a few more seconds, before speaking again.

“You shouldn't be afraid of that. Never gonna happen.”, he said, looking at his hands

They were taken with Achilles. Sometimes they held hands almost without realizing it, as if that was where they should be all the time.

Achilles grinned widely, and if Patroclus had any stage fright left, that was enough to eradicate it completely.

From the stage, they both heard Miss Virginia call the protagonist, and they winced, and laughed. Achilles was the first to rise, leading Patroclus behind him up the stairs.

Patroclus felt something in his stomach, a familiarity he felt sometimes, at times like these, running after Achilles.

The curtain began to open together when that feeling faded, and Patroclus quickly forgot it, seeing his friend leap onto the stage from the ends, smiling, and begin to recite his lines.

He could only think that he was glad that Achilles was happy, a hero or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up will be: sleepovers!

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, yes, this has been done a thousand times but I couldn't help myself. Welcome to my very self-indungent fic, in which everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.  
> Some things to clear up are: the place all of this is set on is not clear, and I intend to keep it that way. Having said that, I have no idea how American or English school work, so I'm going with how the work here in my country! Children can go to kindergarten from 1/2 to 3 years old, if their parents want, and then they begin another thing called "Infantile Education" until they are 6, and then they start Primary School. After that, at 11/12 they start four years of highschool (Secondary Education) and then from 16 to 18 they begin (if they want) something called "Preparatory" (there is not a word I know of for it in English...)  
> So there's that! I'm sure that by now you will have noticed that I am not an English speaker, so please forgive my mistakes writing! Have fun reading!


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